


Meandros on a Hem

by quills_at_dawn



Series: My Odyssey [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 18:26:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16938387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quills_at_dawn/pseuds/quills_at_dawn
Summary: Alexios has his way with the Athenian Spy.





	Meandros on a Hem

**Author's Note:**

> The _chitoniskos_ is the tunic-like garment that Alexios and others wear under their armour.  
> A _meandros_ (or meander) is a continuous line motif (e.g. the Greek key motif).

Laughter ripples through the _Adrestia_.

His _chitoniskos_. They are teasing him about it again. It is nothing a _real_ Spartan would wear. Sure, it’s red, mostly the right shade, but embroidered in saffron gold with three different _meandros,_ at least, along the bottom edge. He must have pulled it off the washing line of some village strumpet. Maybe Hyrkanos only gave him the armour.

I laugh whenever I look at that hem and he laughs whenever I make a pass at what’s hidden beneath it.

Balls of brass, evidently, for him to have just marched into a Spartan camp and made off with valuable military intelligence. Wearing such a showy _chitoniskos_ too.

He accompanies me to go clear out a bandit camp. I don’t need the help but I like the company.

Just a skirmish, they are no match for us and afterwards he throws off his helmet, glancing at the sea, wipes the blood from his face and beard with the back of his hand and grins at me.

“We should wash. You’ve got some too.”

“Where?”

He steps over a body to come to me, looks into my eyes then leans in and presses his mouth onto the corner of mine, his tongue hot, its tip hard as it pushes the faint taste of blood between my lips.

By all the Gods, _finally_!

He pulls away, our gazes meet, and his hand threads into my hair.

The kiss is hard and deep and the bright taste of copper coats our tongues when he bites me and I bruise his mouth in return, both my hands fisted in his hair.

The next kiss is sweet as the juice of a sun-warmed pomegranate, our skins still taste of blood and dirt and the salt of sweat and sea baked in by a full day’s sunshine.

Finally, I pull up that embroidered hem and I have him there, where the grass starts to fringe the sand, on the shallow slope that looks out towards the first lights coming on in Pilgrim’s Landing and the _Adrestia_ , rocking at anchor as Nyx throws her cloak of protection over us and the stars come out over the mountains of Achaia.

Later we’ll soak in the day-warmed waters under those same stars and then I’ll help him back into that absurd _chitoniskos_ and kiss the honeysuckle _meandros_ where it lies against the end of his collarbone then hide the Athenian spy under a Spartan cuirass. We’ll return to the _Adrestia_ and I will laugh with a smile on my heart whenever that embroidered hem catches my eye.


End file.
